


I Have Always and Always Shall

by CrystallizedTwilight



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27892831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallizedTwilight/pseuds/CrystallizedTwilight
Summary: Mercutio needs Benvolio to know how deeply he loves him.
Relationships: Mercutio/Benvolio Montague
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

Benvolio knows better.

He’s the levelheaded one, the rational one, the wise one. He’d spent far too many evenings watching Mercutio woo men and women alike with his charm to ever fall prey to it. And even when Mercutio was completely charmless on more inebriated nights, Verona was _still_ drawn to his enthusiasm. Or perhaps his royalty. Who could say.

But whoever he chose always followed. Ben saw time and time again how people were _fascinating_ to Mercutio until the morning light shone and then he all but forgot their names. Sometimes their faces, too. It was always a game, one he had the luxury to play as a royal, and one Ben knew far better than to ever engage in.

At best, he’d end up as nameless and faceless as all the others. At worst, they’d lose their friendship. And the thought of it not meaning anything more to Merc than the satiation of a fleeting desire felt far too cold to touch. The warning signs were a vibrating neon, thousands of red flags billowed in the storm.

So he knows better. He knows so much better.

For now, he simply makes sure his friend stays safe. No one else was going to look out for Mercutio, least of all Mercutio. So when Verona’s most irresponsible aristocrat sits next to him at a party, drink in hand, lips dangerously close to his neck, Benvolio listens to his words but never takes the whispers home with him at the end of the night.

“You’re very handsome.”

“Thank you,” Benvolio says, disappointed. _That’s_ when he knows he’s truly given up. If he believed Mercutio was even slightly sober enough to remember this conversation in the morning he would have scolded him, denied the claim, berated him for drinking so much so fast and spouting such nonsense at him. But when Benvolio only says _thank you_ it’s because he doesn’t care anymore and nothing matters. 

He was just as anonymous as the others now. Just heat in the crowd, as sufficient as anyone else in the room for Mercutio to lean on. So it doesn’t faze him even when he hears it a second time, then a third, then he loses count after so many parties. Slightly different words with the same sweetness and same alcoholic scent. Just as trite, just as meaningless, just as easily dismissed.

Therefore, it catches him completely off guard when Mercutio says something _different_ one night. It starts the same way, the inebriation, the compliments, the nuzzling closeness that Bevolio would shrug off until it made Merc run into the arms of someone much more inviting. But this time, the conversation continues.

“I could take you to bed.”

“You could take anyone in this room to bed,” Benvolio says, resigned.

“Yes, but they wouldn’t be Benvolio Montague. None of them ever are…and I’m poorer for it.”

The words sound almost aware, deliberate, but most of all they contain his _name_. They were uttered so sincerely to him specifically, not to anyone who would listen, not to another one night stand in the crowd, but to _him_.

It shocks Benvolio enough to turn his head to the side to face him, enough not to pull back before their lips touch. It’s gentle and warm and chaste, very unlike how he expected to be treated by someone so gone, and with a few amazed blinks he’s back to reality. He’s appalled he let that happen. Mercutio is smiling, really soft and hopeful.

But the party surges and Benvolio only has room in his heart to be either a chaperoning friend or a drunken experiment. He can’t be both. 

“This doesn’t mean anything to you,” he says on a piece of hurt and a piece of sadness.

“Benvolio,” Merc starts, again with the power of his name, but Ben won’t be fooled by that twice.

“Get home safe, Mercutio,” is all he says before leaving without seeing his friend off safely for the first time in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

They don’t talk about that night for a month. Benvolio knows that Mercutio has forgotten it ever happened and he’s just about ready to put that chapter to rest when the trellis outside his window begins to shake.

Anyone else might be surprised to see Royal Mercutio scampering up the wood and vines but, honestly, nothing that involved being Mercutio’s friend was surprising to him anymore. He’d seen him dive in the town fountain. This was tame by his standards. He simply lifts the frame and tells him calmly:

“It’s three in the morning.”

“I know. Can I come in?”

Benvolio can tell that Mercutio is entirely sober by the fact that he was coordinated enough to climb all the way up here. His eyes are alert and there is no scent of alcohol. Just typical Mercutio antics. Perhaps he was running from the Capulets again, or couldn’t sneak back into his own house without waking the servants. Either way, Benvolio is unbothered. He shrugs and steps aside for him to fully climb in.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“Yeah, the couch is free,” Ben says quietly, climbing into his bed once more.

“Can I sleep with you in your bed?”

Benvolio squints but can tell no harm is meant by it. Nothing about this was standard and yet who was to illuminate that fact when bizarreness simply came with the job of being Mercutio’s friend? 

“I’m too tired to argue,” he says groggily, lifting the sheet high for Mercutio to join him under it.

Without prompt, Mercutio strips down to his undergarments as well and enters the fluffy heat of the blankets. Ben doesn’t press him for an explanation, he simply tries his best to catch a ride on another dream. However, he’s disallowed from doing so when he hears Mercutio’s voice once more.

“You’re a good friend, Benvolio. You always help me no matter what and never ask any questions…” Mercutio pauses and Ben is only slightly confused by the heavy dismay in his voice “…sometimes, I wish you would.”

“Okay,” Benvolio realizes he is supposed to bite, “What’s wrong?”

“You really think it wouldn’t _mean anything to me?_ I sleep with everyone in Verona because I can’t have _you_.”

Benvolio’s stomach drops cold to learn that Merc _did_ remember that conversation. And not only had he remembered it, but he had _dwelled_ on it, and now wanted it to continue. Ben swallows hard, grateful for the darkness that made his expression somewhat ambiguous because he was certain despair was written all over his face.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Why don’t you think so?” Mercutio almost sobs, instantly scooting closer, cupping Ben’s face, begging to know why he wasn’t believed.

“Because I’m nothing extraordinary.”

“Everything _about_ you is extraordinary, Ben, _please._ ” 

Only briefly does Ben wonder if it was a literal crime to make a royal’s voice _break_ like that, but he has little time to consider the thought as Mercutio closes the space between their lips once more.

And there’s something about this new kiss that feels so much more genuine. There is no party swirling around them, no inebriation to make him doubt his intentions. Just the two of them, alone, holding onto nothing more than a desperate hope that maybe this could be something more.

So when he is allowed, Mercutio learns low over him, riding steady and gentle and with _infinitely_ more tenderness than Benvolio though him capable. It feels very right to lean him down by the back of his neck so their foreheads can touch. Mercutio nods against him and everything feels so good that it almost _aches_.

And when Mercutio moves to place one especially soft kiss over his heart Benvolio no longer worries that he’ll be forgotten by morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Ben supposes what he enjoys most about Mercutio is the fact that he never looks before he leaps. That reckless sort of _wild_ , that devil-may-care outlook on life. 

It’s addictive to watch such _wonder_ , sometimes for it’s beauty, sometimes for sheer _bewilderment_. Benvolio’s actions were always calculated, thoughtfully weighed, so to watch his best friend dive headfirst into life was admirable to say the least.

It is also this same quality that causes Ben the most _worry_. Of course, Mercutio was often safe from most repercussions because of his royal heritage, but what if there were to come a day when the consequence was instantaneous? Who would save him then? 

So, Benvolio hangs close, partly because he loves being around such a fiery sort of light and partly to make sure it never goes _out._

“What’s going on in there?” Mercutio whispers, tucking a little bit of mussed, blonde hair behind Ben’s ear as they lay nose to nose. They’ve already slept in too late as it is and the sun falls golden on the sheets.

“Hmm?” Ben asks, opening his eyes to see Mercutio’s emerald ones glistening back at him, grin wide.

“You get quiet when your thoughts get loud. Wanna let me in there?”

Ben huffs with a lopsided smile of his own, “I keep the place very organized. I’m worried you’d move something around and not put it back where you found it.”

Mercutio bites his lip, highly excited by his friend’s wit, and closes the space between them into a kiss. Ben accepts it happily, if softly. It’s true that he did overthink. But that was only because Merc underthought. At least one of them had to be responsible.

“I’m thinking about how I’ll have to leave through the window again. Since we slept in so late.”

“The servants don’t care.”

“Just like they don’t gossip?”

“Don’t leeeave,” Mercutio protests when Ben sits up. He grabs Ben’s hand but Ben just takes control of the gesture and kisses the back of Mercutio’s own, genuflecting: 

“Your majesty.”

Mercutio grumbles as he releases him but as he watches Ben dress in the light, the goofy smile is instantly back on his face.

“Can I see you tonight?”

Ben stands by the window, now fully dressed, waiting for the passerbys below to clear for a chance to slip down the trellis unseen. This was usually Mercutio’s job, leaving through windows. Benvolio had never previously let himself be so careless as to oversleep…but the more time he spent with this one, the harder and harder it was to leave him. He is in too deep, now.

“I can’t be absent from my house two nights in a row. Romeo is already covering for me as it is.”

“That sounds like an invitation to _your_ place.”

“It’s clear,” Benvolio says to himself as the road is cleared below and he dips through the window to take his leave. He’s only halfway down the vines when he hears “I’ll see you then!” being yelled from the window above, eradicating all hopes of subtly.

But he always did love that sort of wild thrill that came with loving Mercutio. He holds that promise with him as he drops down to the dirt road, blends in with the calm pace of daylight, and makes his way home unseen.


	4. Chapter 4

Benvolio hears the clambering on his trellis once again and Mercutio is half inside his window before he even has time to protest.

“ _You_ are going to get us in a lot of trouble if you keep doing this,” Ben says only half-cross because he is, admittedly, happy to see him.

“Benvolio, do you know what your cousin does?” Mercutio asks, crawling in rather ungracefully before he finds his feet, “He stands under balconies and just calls up to the lady he fancies. It’s like…why not just climb up there and see her?”

“I don’t know, because her parents are home?” Benvolio replies lowly through gritted teeth, informing him that his own situation was much the same.

Mercutio encircles his hips in an embrace, pulling their foreheads together as he says with a grin, “Well, shouting poetry from below probably calls _more_ attention to yourself.”

“Oh, I should be so grateful you made the climb, then?”

“Yes, now we can _whisper,_ ” Mercutio grins, speaking all those words on a teeny tiny hush as he presses several kisses into Benvolio’s jaw and ear and neck, “With love’s light wings did I o'erperch these walls.”

“Do _not_ quote Romeo.”

Benvolio is almost giggling by the end so he really can’t play the annoyed card anymore and helps himself to a proper kiss.

“Just keep it low. I don’t have the luxury of servants who don’t care, I have two parents who care very _much_.”

“Mmmh,” Mercutio says, very much enjoying the taste of the kiss, “I can be quiet.”

“No, you _will_ be quiet.”

“So quiet, Ben,” Mercutio confirms for good measure and they’re already leaning backwards onto the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Mercutio throws words around all the time. 

He speaks his passions into existence as if it were as easy as breathing, never thinking about the weight of his speech, the implications of his tone, nor the impact of his whispers.

So, the first time Ben hears that three word phrase, he naturally assumes Mercutio has whispered it many a time to many a soul. 

He holds it with him for a moment and lets it go the next. It was enough of a journey for Benvolio to believe that he wouldn’t just be another forgettable fling and, even so, he couldn’t let himself dream too much.

He didn’t pretend that the repetition of their intimate meetings meant anything terribly deep to Mercutio as being ‘terribly deep’ was not something he was sure Mercutio would ever be capable.

Verona’s flamboyant Royal fell in love with the elegant twirl of a woman’s dress or the handsome jawline of a gentleman. He fell in love with touch and physicality and fleeting things. 

Meanwhile, Ben fell in love with something a bit more eternal, and that was a lot to ask of anyone in return. He knows the word means different things to them both and he doesn’t blame Mercutio for using it how he understands it.

So, he accepts Mercutio into his bed now and then, sometimes he even slips into his, but he never asks what it means or what they _are_ because they never talked about labels, nor monogamy, nor their futures.

Ben sees no one else but he doesn’t expect Merc to change his lifestyle and so he doesn’t ask. He tries to live in the moment and doing so is sometimes harder than others. Especially when the way Mercutio says those words seems to change. 

Ben thinks he might be imagining it at first for the shift is so subtle, but if he were to compare the breathy, exuberant _I love you_ ’s from their early meetings to the softer, fragile _I love you_ ’s of today, the difference was crystalline.

And this time, _this time_ , Ben notices how Mercutio says it afterwards, when they’re exhausted and too warm to be curled up into each other but neither of them would part for the world. 

The words are small and certain but hold the curious little bit of _hope_. Benvolio swallows hard and simply kisses his forehead, Mercutio stills as he waits to see if the silence will be filled with any reciprocation…then he relaxes, nods, and kisses into Benvolio’s neck when the moment passes.

It almost seems like _patience_ , not a trait he would ever associate with him, patience that clings to something softer. _Not yet, then. It’s okay._ But the air is still thick with questions and Mercutio always was one to speak his mind:

“Does it discomfort you to hear that?”

“It’s not the words,” Ben whispers in the dark, “It’s not knowing how many people have also had the great pleasure of being told the same by good Mercutio this week.”

Mercutio sits up very slowly, propping his front half up on his elbows to gaze down over Benvolio, concerned.

“I see no one else. Not since we began.”

Ben doesn’t know why that makes his brow furrow, but it’s something like guilt for assuming and, more decipherable, a feeling of great unworthiness. Mercutio always seemed to find him _spectacular_ and Ben couldn’t seem to fathom why he would be so satisfying, enough to reject whole city of willing Verona.

“Why?”

Mercutio just takes Ben’s jaw in his grip, ever so lightly, and leans down for a particularly chaste kiss. 

“Because…I love you,” Mercutio repeats, gently. And, suddenly, that claim doesn’t seem so unbelievable. “No one else gives me what you give me, Ben. I could search to the ends of the earth and not find another like you.”

Benvolio is shaking and so Mercutio stays close above his lips, “I love you, Benvolio Montague. I will love no one else. I hope that’s okay.”

Perhaps their usages of the word was not as vastly different as Ben had thought. Because, right now, it seemed perfectly clear that Mercutio’s words were not simply unfiltered jabber that faded with the pleasure. Instead, in full consciousness of the vulnerability that came with that confession, those words bared his entire _soul_.

And all Benvolio wants to do now is show him that his _own_ soul has always been bound to his.

“I love you, too,” Ben barely manages, words sticky in his dry throat, for all the wet had gone to his eyes.

“Yeah?” Mercutio breathes, grin splitting wide, green eyes glittering to hear that his hopes were heard. He thumbs Benvolio’s cheeks, not knowing whether to let his giddiness manifest in a reflexive chuckle or savor the serenity of the quiet moment as Benvolio nods.

He decides somewhere in the middle as he presses their foreheads and kisses Benvolio’s nose, then cheeks, then lips, unstoppable grin reforming between each and every one. And when Ben sees how euphoric Mercutio looks to know he is loved in return, he only wishes he had said it sooner.

He makes a note to remind him often.


End file.
